


The Witch's Vine

by railise



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/railise/pseuds/railise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's gift to Gwen backfires spectacularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch's Vine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 1st Short Challenge at [ag_fics](http://community.livejournal.com/ag_fics), at LiveJournal. Theme: "grapevine"

"She loves raisins of Corinth."

Arthur's eyebrows inched up as Merlin stood there and regarded him, clearly feeling that his task was complete. "What the hell are raisins of Corinth?" When he had told Merlin to find something special he could give to Guinevere, something which would be a treat for her, he had envisioned a piece of jewelry; perhaps a set of combs for her hair, or a necklace. He had not expected a riddle.

Merlin blinked, apparently not having anticipated the question. "Um, I think it's a fruit?" he replied, making it more a query than a statement. "She said Morgana's had them a couple of times, and let her try them, and that they were delicious."

Ah, so it was likely not a food that was readily available, more of a delicacy. Arthur could work with that. "All right, great. Where do I find them?"

With a blank expression, Merlin shrugged. "How should I know?"

Apparently, leading and training the knights, and assisting his father in the running of a kingdom was not enough; Arthur had to figure out simple things like this, too. "She got them from Morgana?"

"Yes."

"Then, go ask Morgana," he said pointedly.

Merlin frowned. "Do I have to?"

"No," Arthur replied, annoyed once more by Merlin's newfound aversion to Morgana. Just as Merlin began to look relieved, he continued, "You could muck out every stall in Camelot, instead."

Giving a heavy sigh, Merlin began to slouch away.

Arthur shook his head. What sort of impression did that give, with his servant moping about the place? No matter than nobody of import was around to see him; it was the principle of the thing. "Look lively about it, will you? It's depressing, watching you slump around like that."

Merlin shot him a baleful look, but straightened up before exiting the room. Had Arthur's freshly-polished breastplate not been leaned inside the door, he might have missed seeing Merlin pull a face at him... although, he probably would have assumed as much, even had he not seen it. Still, he was too pleased at the prospect of giving the fruit to Guinevere to be bothered finding something to throw.

* * *

"Raisins of Corinth?" Gaius asked, pouring some purple liquid into a vial before glancing over. "If you're lucky, you might find the merchant who sells them in the market, but I don't think he comes by this time of year. Why do you ask?"

Watching as the liquid let off a small puff of steam and turned blue, Merlin simply replied, "Arthur."

"I never knew Arthur had a taste for those," the elderly man remarked.

"He doesn't. Gwen does."

"Ah." Gaius finally smiled. "And you are to find some for her."

"Actually, I'm supposed to find where he can get some. I think he wants to prove to her that he did it himself." While Arthur had not said anything to him, when Merlin had asked Gwen how the dinner went, she had clearly been displeased that the castle had prepared her meal. And then, after the mix-up with the flowers and letter when Arthur was enchanted with Vivian, it seemed safer for everyone if the prince stopped delegating his courting, and saw to it personally.

Gaius's expression turned sympathetic. "I'm afraid you may come up empty-handed."

Wryly, Merlin replied, "Yeah, I get the feeling that won't be an acceptable answer. They do not grow anywhere nearby?"

Setting the vial down carefully, Gaius hesitated. "No. They are brought in from warmer climes."

For all that Gaius asked Merlin how he managed to survive while keeping his secrets, he occasionally wondered the same thing about his mentor. Gaius was one of the worst liars he had ever encountered. "What are you not telling me?"

Appearing put out, the healer nonetheless admitted, "There is one place where they're grown, not far from here. But, it is on land owned by a powerful witch, and inside Odin's kingdom, both of which are good reasons for you to stay away."

Merlin pondered that. "Well, I would not be the one going, necessarily--"

"No, Merlin. It is far too dangerous. Especially for Arthur; he cannot defend himself against the witch, should he come up against her."

"Then, I _will_ go with him. I can handle a witch."

Gaius raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Not if it means using magic in front of Arthur."

Fairly sure that Gaius was overstating the risks, Merlin grinned and shrugged. "I'll find a way. It will be fine; we're just going to collect... What are they, anyway?"

"Grapes. It is a type of grape."

Turning the grin into his most winning smile, Merlin asked, "You would not happen to have a picture of these grapes in one of your books, would you?"

"I do not tend to keep books of fruit around," Gaius replied crossly, displeased that his warnings were being ignored.

An open book near Merlin had a drawing of rose hips on the page, and he held it up questioningly.

With a heavy sigh, Gaius grabbed the volume and began flipping through it.

* * *

"You're sure this is where they grow?" Arthur studied the edge of the forest. The day was grey and misty, anyway, but the foliage was so dense that almost no light shone in beneath the trees.

"Gaius says it's the only place to find them anywhere around here." Frowning, Merlin added, "Just be careful; we do not want the witch who owns the land to catch us."

Arthur scoffed. "Merlin, we're on the very edge of her land." He waved a hand to indicate the forbidding landscape. Since venturing from the main path on foot, unable to bring their horses any further, the open area they had passed through was thick with unseemly shrubbery, misshapen bramble bushes and sickly-hued flowers, surrounded by half-dead grass. Dips, holes, and small mounds made the ground treacherously uneven, and the light rain turned it slippery; both of them had tripped more than once while making their way to the woods. "If she has half a brain, she's nowhere near here, especially not on a day like this." Going toward the forest, he continued, "She's probably tucked up under a blanket at home, in front of the fire, sipping whatever vile brew it is that witches drink."

From behind him, Merlin griped, "Let's just get this over with."

"You worry far too much," Arthur called over his shoulder. "We avoided two parties of Odin's men; surely, we can avoid one, solitary witch." Glancing back, he asked, "And anyway, was it not you who said this would be simple?"

"That was before I saw this place," muttered Merlin, gazing around nervously. "It does not feel right."

"It will be fine." Shaking his head, Arthur led the way into the forest.

What light there was inside was weirdly green, due to the water in the air and the denseness of the leafy canopy, and was nearly palpable. And, if the plants growing outside the forest looked odd, those within were downright sinister; Arthur told himself it was only an illusion caused by the strange atmosphere, but knowing facts did not alter their appearance to him. Despite his assurances to Merlin, he would be very glad to be out of there and on their way home. He scanned all around as they walked, keeping an eye out for vines or small, dark grapes. The minutes crawled by as they picked their way through the underbrush, until finally, Merlin exclaimed, "There!" and pointed off to the left.

"Thank the gods," Arthur murmured under his breath, picking his way over to the jumbled vines.

They quickly filled a box they had put in Merlin's pack, which would protect the berries on the journey back. Once it was done, they latched the box shut, and Merlin put it securely in his bag again. By unspoken consent, neither of them said a word; Arthur took another careful look around, and then began to lead the way out. As they neared the road, almost out of sight of the forest, he began to relax.

That was, until Merlin froze. "Arthur-- look."

Turning, the prince caught sight of a woman standing at the edge of the forest, staring after them. If she was the witch, her true age was anyone's guess, although she appeared to be in her late thirties. Deep red tresses managed to flutter down her back, despite the mist that had plastered the men's hair to their heads. A cloak the same steely shade of the sky billowed enough to reveal her burgundy dress, clearly of a superior cut and design.

As she watched them, Arthur had the distant thought that witchcraft evidently paid well. A chill ran down his back at the same time that Merlin winced and raised a hand to his temple; he hoped it was a result of the weather, but was not naive enough to assume as much. She did not seem inclined to do more than stare, however, so he finally said quietly, "Let's go." Merlin looked bothered, but nodded, and they made it to the road, and to Camelot, without encountering anyone else.

* * *

Gwen's initial thought as she walked into her house was that she had not left a basket on her table that morning. Her second thought, this one accompanied by a flutter in her stomach and a smile of pure, happy excitement on her face, was that the handwriting on the slip of parchment was not Merlin's.

 _Something a little special for someone very special.  
-A._

It did not have the same poetic wording as the first such note she had discovered in her house, but like the others that had appeared since then, she treasured them even more for truly coming from Arthur. Curiously, she lifted the cloth which was draped over the top of the basket and peered inside-- and then gasped. Even the few times Morgana had been given raisins of Corinth, she had not had so many! This must have cost Arthur a fortune, which he should not be spending on her. No matter that something inside of her danced a little at the thought that he considered her worthy of such a valuable gift; he still should not spend so much.

All the same... it would not hurt to eat just a few...

* * *

"Have you seen Guinevere this morning?" Arthur asked Merlin as he pulled his blue shirt over his head. He had lingered near Morgana's quarters as long as he could without attracting comment, but finally figured he had missed her arrival.

When Merlin shook his head and replied, "No, not yet," Arthur frowned, fastening his belt. He was looking forward to her reaction to the grapes; it seemed he would have to wait a bit longer to learn it.

Or, he might have to wait a lot longer. Morgana stopped him in the corridor near the council chamber, seeming confused. "You have not seen Gwen today, have you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"She has not been in."

A chill washed over him. "I'll have Merlin check on her."

She shook her head and gave a small wave of her hand. "No, I'm sure it's nothing. She'll turn up."

After everything that had gone on the last few years, Arthur found it impossible to be so dismissive, but preferred acting to discussion. Instead of sending Merlin, he went down to the town, himself. He knew she was not inside the house before he even knocked on the door, though he could not have said why. When he went in, his suspicion was confirmed; and the chill turned to full-fledged alarm when he saw the basket tipped on its side, empty except for a few stray grapes which had rolled slightly away from it.

It might have been a coincidence, but he somehow knew it was not. Retrieving Merlin, shoving a few things into a pack, and giving his father some excuse about hunting, he instantly set off for the witch's forest.

When they arrived, it was not to the landscape they remembered.

Grapevines poured out of the woods and across what had been open ground-- which was no longer open. Instead, it was occupied by a giant tower, but not one constructed of stone and mortar. It was formed entirely of the vines.

Up and up it went, taller than the elderly trees nearby, almost appearing to brush the clouds hovering low over the scene. Nor was there a door, but Arthur thought he could make out an opening toward the top.

"What is that?" Merlin wondered.

Arthur shot him a quelling look, although he understood; he could hardly believe it, either. Drawing his sword, he edged closer, keeping a keen eye open for the witch, or anything else that might appear. "Guinevere?" he called.

"Arthur!" The sound of her voice drew his gaze up to the opening in the tower, which he guessed was about the size of a window now that he could see Guinevere leaning out of it.

"How did you get up there? More importantly, can you get down?"

She yelled back, "I do not know how I got here; I just woke up a few minutes ago. There's no way out, except for this."

"Stay here," he ordered Merlin, and then did a quick circuit of the structure. There did not appear to be any other opening than the one anywhere. When he got back to where he started, he sheathed his sword. With no other option at hand, he walked over and tested the vines to make sure they were secure.

"Arthur, wait!" Merlin exclaimed, at the same time that Guinevere cried, "What are you _doing?_ "

"I'm coming up," he called to her. Then, he had a thought, and drew his sword once more. "Here," he said, holding it out to Merlin. "Just in case." Not that his servant could do much with a weapon, but it was better than leaving him undefended.

"You cannot climb up there," Merlin argued. "What if you fall?"

That was not an entirely stupid concern, but Arthur had scaled far worse than this; at least there were a multitude of hand- and footholds here. "It's good to know you have such faith in me," he said drolly.

"Well, how do you expect to get back down, if Gwen can't climb like you can?" Merlin tried.

"Just, keep an eye out for the witch," Arthur sighed.

Before either of them could say more, he went back over and began his ascent.

As he thought, it was far easier than other times he had been impelled to scale a place, but it still took awhile, and he was still sweating well before he reached the window. Guinevere had been watching the entire time, and offered a hand as he slung himself over the bottom of the window opening. He joined her in what was a startlingly normal sort of room, albeit devoid of furniture and constructed of plants. The floor was quite level, made of tightly-woven vines, and more light came in than it seemed should be possible.

He was not overly concerned with any of that now, however, instead holding Guinevere close when she threw herself at him. "I cannot believe you just did that," she said with a laugh, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Of course, I did," he replied, pleased yet more serious than she sounded. Meeting her eyes, he said, "No matter where you find yourself, if you need me, I will be there."

She smiled sweetly, laying a hand on his cheek. "You make such grand promises."

"I mean it."

"I know you do." Her hand slid back, and he leaned in for a quick kiss... which ended up not being all that very quick.

They jumped apart when a voice said, "How sweet." Arthur instinctively stepped in front of Guinevere and reached for his sword-- only to remember then that he had left it with Merlin. The smile the witch gave him, as opposed to Guinevere's, was cold. "My raisins of Corinth are also sweet," she noted, reaching up to lovingly brush a bunch that dangled beside her head. "But, you know that." She stepped closer toward them, and while there was not much Arthur could do if she used magic, he did his best to appear unconcerned.

"I should not have taken them," he admitted. "But, I can recompense you. Tell me how much you want, and let us go."

With a dry chuckle, she said, "It is not that simple. You cannot offer me money, and had you asked for them, I would have turned you down. They are _mine_ , and mine alone." Her expression turning stony, she said, "Now that you have eaten them, you must die."

"She's mad," Guinevere breathed behind Arthur, so that only he would hear. While he agreed, he could hardly say so.

"Enjoy your last moments. Have a bite to eat," the witch suggested with a cruel smirk, and then she disappeared in a puff of smoke... except, the smoke did not originate from where she had been standing.

" _Arthur! Gwen!_ " Merlin cried, the panic in his voice clear even over that distance.

Dashing to the window, they looked out-- and quickly pulled their heads back inside, against the smoke that was beginning to billow up from the fire that now engulfed the base of the tower.

"What should we do?" Guinevere asked desperately. Arthur wracked his brain for any sort of solution; the climb down would have been perilous enough before, but with flames licking up the sides of the creeping building, they would be roasted in such an attempt. And that was only if the smoke did not choke them, first, which it was sure to do.

Reluctantly, he met her gaze, not wanting to let her see the hopelessness in his, knowing it was unavoidable. Her eyes welled up, and as she took his hand, he tried not to let how upset he was show. He had made a mistake, a terrible one, and it was going to cost Guinevere her life; how could he have blundered so badly?

"Thank you for the gift," she suddenly said, letting out a slight giggle through her tears. Despite himself, Arthur gave a short laugh.

"I'm beginning to wish I had simply given you jewelry."

Guinevere smiled sadly. "They were tasty, at least."

"I suppose that's something."

She took the step that separated them, and was in his arms once more. Small tendrils of smoke were beginning to seep between the weft and warp of the floor, and Arthur closed his eyes, wishing there was any way he could protect her from this.

Suddenly, there was a deep, consuming rumble, and a thunderous percussion above them. "What--?"

They looked toward the window, only to see rain pouring down in sheets. "Will it be enough?" Guinevere murmured, sounding as if it were more to herself than to Arthur.

He let go of her and strode to the window again. Already, the smoke was diminishing, and so too were the flames. He could barely make out Merlin, sheltering his head from the downpour with his arm.

"It's enough; let's go." Holding out a hand toward Guinevere, he went to swing a leg over the edge, but she paused.

"Wait a moment." Reaching toward the wall beside the window, she pulled on the end of a vine, which was sticking out. After a few more tugs, she had a fairly strong semblance of a rope in her hand. "It's going to be slippery," she pointed out, before going to work on another vine. "I'm not sure it will stop us if we fall, but it's better than nothing."

Grinning at her, pleased both that they were about to escape and that she was so clever, he secured a vine around each of their waists. Then, just before they began their climb, he gave her one more kiss. "For luck."

The combination of the vines and the luck saw them safely down the tower, with only one or two harrowing moments-- which, considering the rain and the damage from the fire, was better than Arthur had anticipated. Never had he been so glad to have the earth beneath his feet, and Guinevere appeared equally relieved. Merlin gave her an excited hug, and seemed about to do the same with Arthur, but went for a handshake and a brief thump on the back, instead, before they began trudging toward the road.

The rain let up soon afterward, and when they were on horseback once more, on the road back to Camelot, Guinevere gave Arthur a gentle squeeze as she held onto him. "One thing's for sure: I never want to eat another grape, as long as I live."

Arthur could not have agreed more.


End file.
